Flower
by Vanidades
Summary: She reminded him of the flowers he used to watch when he was nothing but a kid. M rated for implied sexual content.


Words: 1598

Disclaimer: They belong to Yushiro Nightow.

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Her skin was bathed in little droplets of sweat and he could swear he could smell the flowers he used to smell while he was in the ship on her. He could compare her flushed skin to that of a rose and right now she was being sprinkled by the heavy dew of the morning, he had been thrown back in heaven. The way her shoulders heaved up and down every time she took a breath was like witnessing a flower bouncing up and down as it remained still and helpless against the wind.

Her bangs were stuck to her forehead, the steam was rising in the room and in all the haze he had forgotten just how beautiful she could look at moments like this one. Most of the time he used to spend with her he'd feel like a crook, but more-so a masochist.

His hand reached up to caress her cheek and he could feel his heart twinge with a mix of emotions his brain could barely register as he brought his weight down on her and pressed his chest against hers, feeling the heat of her body against his, sending a shiver down his spine to meet at the end of his where hers began. The world shrinking into nothing but what this moment was and the fact that he didn't even know how he had gotten himself into this situation.

She was just perfection, and he had promised himself that he'd settle for nothing less. A promise that his mind had once forgotten after spending a century avoiding any kind of closeness and friendships with humans other than the ones above the clouds. But said promise came back to life the day he ran into her stubborn self and he was damned and haunted by her big gray eyes ever since. He had fought himself to keep that promise broken, it was the only promise he had ever broken, and he'd broken it because it was selfish and pointless. The only promise he'd made that ever mattered was the one he'd done to Rem, but that had been settled, and without a promise to follow through he had made himself a thousand and one to not be in the spot he was in right now.

He looked down on her and drank her in, etching this moment into his mind and suddenly he found himself wanting to stop time because going back to reality would mean going back to a place where time became his worst enemy and it pained him. It pained him so much.

He's good at breaking promises, he told himself over and over, everyday his eyes would meet hers in a room full of people. Everyday he would smile, genuinely smile at her and pretend that the people around them didn't exist. Everyday he would run his fingertips slowly across the soft skin of her shoulder, tracing patterns on the many freckles that adorned her milky skin as they talked about their respective days and routines. Everyday he'd let her in, he was breaking the promise he had chanted a thousand times, over and over, to himself before he headed to bed.

Now everything he could think of was her. She'd taken over the innermost corners of his mind and his heart, and Vash was the kind of person that could shut his head up but his heart would always be loud. It was like the damn thing was connected to a microphone and instead of pumping blood it would only tell him to let himself feel… to open up… and that meant being vulnerable and weak against the entity that was Meryl Stryfe.

She was his mantra. She had become the reason why he meditated in the mornings and now before going to bed. She had become the reason behind his fear of time and the more he thought about it the less he liked whatever it was that attached him to her but the more he learned to treasure having her in his life everyday for the past couple of years.

A tiny and almost mute moan broke him out of his trance in time to witness tourmaline hiding behind heavy lids and a look that spoke of nothing more than love; that ephemeral and fleeting mayfly he'd always been looking for and he had to meet her to realize he'd been looking in all the wrong places. Because life isn't just going to present you with something and put it right in front of you gift wrapped and pat you in the back to congratulate you. No, life would cloak that thing and hand it over to you and laugh at the mess that it becomes when it's been hidden amongst layers of stubbornness, short tempers, independence and unwavering compassion.

His blue eyes met hers, and his mind was clouded by feelings while his heart was screaming to give in so he dipped his head down, his lips as soft as the wings of a butterfly caressing her skin, leaving little imprints that to him were nothing more than claims as he felt her hands snake around his neck, her lithe fingers rooting on his scalp and her back arching, rising her chest to melt into his and he could've sworn there was no better feeling in the world that when their souls felt like they were about to melt into each other.

But he remembered. He remember the many times he told himself that he would never be able to love her the way she loved him. He remember the many times he'd promised to not do so. And every time he'd forget about it because they'd end up like this and it was hard to listen to your mind when the person lying under you was just so perfect and she seemed to wash away every single worry or doubt there'd ever been on him. And he'd think that maybe this is why he was alive, maybe this was what he was meant to do, but no. He just couldn't love her that way.

To her this must be something fleeting, minimal and enjoyable for as long as it lasts. That's why he'd never be able to love her in such ways. Because he'd be the one left behind once she passed. He'd be the one left remembering, longing for those moments once again, wanting to hear her voice in the morning, yelling at him because he's made a mess out of coffee and doughnuts, the way she'd hold him during the night all the way until the next morning, her laughter whenever he'd do something stupid, or the way she'd just get upset at him for nothing.

He shut his eyes tightly as he came undone, his forehead pressed against her shoulder as he gritted his teeth and he felt water running through his eyelashes. He cursed himself mentally as he fought himself to keep steady breaths and not sob, let alone sigh because if he did that'd be a giveaway and she'd shower him with questions and he didn't want to answer any of them.

She remained quiet and he thanked the heavens for sending her his way, for placing her in his life, and he let his weight fall on her, his head on top of her chest rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathing and he could hear her heart beat, constant and persistent, just like her and he found himself smiling, his eyes still shut and her fingers now weaving through his scalp, lulling him to sleep.

Once again he found himself grateful, just once more being thankful. A moment in which he also hated himself. He'd already gone through a significant loss twice, wasn't that enough? Why'd he have to keep on putting himself back up in these kinds of situations. But you can't rule with sense the matters of the heart, and his heart had chosen to win this war and he cursed at the heavens because years down the road he'd want to do nothing more than dig a grave next to hers and just wait for the eternal slumber to come get him.

He felt her fingers stop and she took a deep breath as he looked up at her, she was looking at the ceiling, "I love you," She whispered and his heart tugged at him.

He smiled, genuine and warm, closing his eyes as he could've sworn he sighed, but this time she didn't ask questions, this time she let her hand go back to weaving through his hair and she let him place a kiss on the mound of her breast as his own hand caressed the skin on her stomach. He was quiet. He didn't dare reply. Not because he didn't love her, no that wasn't it… It was because he couldn't _just_ love her.

Vash The Stampede couldn't just love this simple Meryl Stryfe, the woman that turned his world upside down and set it on fire with just one look… no, this wasn't love… this had heightened and he could no longer control it. He had broken one too many promises he'd made to himself, all because of the love and peace this woman brought to him, so he'd be damned if he settled on just calling it such a simple thing.

She didn't waver, she didn't ask for a reply, she just chuckled and closed her eyes. And for the first time in a century someone understood his silence and decided to share it with him.


End file.
